Sentenced
by Cullens Incarcerated
Summary: Entry for the Cullens Incarcerated Contest. Edward finds himself at the wrong place at possibly the worst time. Just as things were looking up, things quickly spiraled backwards.


"**Cullens Incarcerated Contest"**

**Story Title: **Sentenced

**Main Characters:** Edward

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing.

**To see other entries in the "Cullens Incarcerated" contest, please visit the profile: http://www . fanfiction . net/u/2163960**

* * *

I'd been in this fucking place full of metal bars that caged us like animals, plastic trays that held something they called meals, orange jumpsuits that scratched the hell out of my skin, white underwear that may or may not be mine, and if we were really good, a couple TV's that were the size of the mans head I was cell mates with, for three weeks. I'd been in this fucking place for three entirely too God damned long weeks.

Since being sentenced, I'd been served divorce papers and a couple drawings that were from my kids. My only visitors had been my parents and they'd only come twice. Emmett had only been here once.. to give me shit. It was the same shit I thought about every damn day and when I heard it come from him, in his loud, pissed off tone of disapproval, it really made me think I probably would've been better off dead.

If I were dead, that'd be it.

People _might_ mourn the loss of Edward Cullen, hopefully the man I used to be, but then they'd be able to go on with their lives. Too bad that bullet didn't go through my head. What a lousy shot that asshole was.

I tried not to dwell on the fact that I'd been sentenced to two years. My jackass public defender, Aro, told me that I could probably cut my sentence down, earning what he called "good time." If I were lucky, with said good time, I could go up for a parole hearing and be out in as little as nine months, possibly a year.

In the meantime, I was lucky enough to land a job, which was extremely rare for a newly incarcerated man. Being able to hold a job that paid me fifty five cents an hour would also add to the good time Aro told me about. Working also aided in passing time.

Other prisoners were pissed off over the fact that I was put in the kitchen. It was one of the better jobs because you were able to access any of the food in the kitchen while working.

Normal people, those outside of prison would think of Ramen and peanut butter as average, on hand foods, used only occasionally. Foods you had left over in your cabinets right before you needed to go grocery shopping. Here, those things were a luxury to have and I had stock piled my cell with them.

Trying to cook the Ramen in your cell however, was a pain in the ass. You'd have to let it soak in the hot tap water that came from the rusty sink and wait forever for the noodles to actually be soft enough to eat. Even still, having that Ramen at two in the morning when you couldn't sleep was great.

Every day I would visit the prison doctor, Jessica Stanley, who would clean and redress my slow healing wound and give me my pills. The fucking gunshot wound I'd continually look at with disgust. It was what ultimately led me into this prison of hell anyway.

Had I just left the dope behind, I'd be back at home with my wife and children and that only added to my misery.

She was an easy whore. I could see it in her eyes. The way she looked at me and sauntered throughout her office suggested that perhaps she'd like to treat me with some sort of special remedies that had absolutely nothing to do with medicine.

The Dr. would always feed me my meds and watch to make sure I took them properly. I dubbed them acetaminophen for the pain of my gunshot wound and refused to accept what they were because if I didn't, someone might find me hung by my thin, stained sheets.

Admitting to my addiction was still really difficult for me.. and it was embarrassing.

I had ruined my entire life, a really good life, in as little as a few months. I wasn't one of those people that had no regrets. I had plenty of them and I wouldn't ever be able to forgive myself. I was missing a big part of my kids lives, my daughter would start her very first day of school while I was here, my son would be speaking full sentences; would he even remember who I was?

*

I walked to the conveyor belt and grabbed the first tray that ran by me. A slab of Salisbury steak, a rounded ball of instant potatoes and a slice of bread. _Or_.. a slab of soaked cardboard, a scoop of school paste and a piece of stale bread left over from last week's choice of assorted sandwiches that were lucky enough to be spared from molding.

It depended on how you looked at it. The potatoes would never compare to the roasted garlic potato wedges I was used to at home and Mom's porterhouse and fresh backed bread would make this shit look like something a stray dog might eat if he were hungry enough.

I'm sure that a lot of the prisoners here were grateful for the food, a lot of them had most likely been living the streets, chasing their high, sleeping wherever was dry and quiet; only eating a bag of chips or a donut when and if they felt like sparing a dollar of their drug money was necessary to get some sustenance into their sickly bodies.

Maybe they were trying to cut the population of this place by starvation or malnourishment.

I walked past the table of biker type men to take my seat in the corner, where I always sat, avoiding everyone. I rarely ever spoke and never talked about anything of importance. One of the larger men stood up, blocking my path, kneeing me in the fucking thigh, knowing exactly where my wound was. There wasn't much I could do since I had buckled in pain and fell to the floor.

If that was their form of entertainment, whatever. I was just an empty man, still stuck in the damaged body of Edward Cullen anyway. I doubted the man I once was would ever come back, and if he did, there'd be only one reason I would allow him to.

I felt the sticky, warmth soaking into the fabric and looked to see it start to stain the floor, I was bleeding profusely. People had begun cheering, hooting and banging on the metal tables that overcrowded the cafeteria, wanting and expecting a brawl to break out. I felt like I was in some sort of high school environment.

Two correction officers grabbed my arms and forcefully led me out of there, rushing me straight to the infirmary, while the other CO's tried to put some order back into the room that smelled like Kibbles and Bits.

Jessica had made it known a week or so after my arrival that she felt safe enough with me that she didn't need any of the men in blue to assist or baby sit. As soon as I was brought in, they left, taking their spots outside of the door leaning against the wall.

"Has she come?" she asked me.

I never once spoke a word about my personal life to this woman or anyone else here and I never would. Everyone knew about everything here and it was starting to grate on my nerves.

Apparently, my divorce papers were big news. They may as well watch Days Of Our Lives. There is certainly more excitement in day time TV than there is in the life of Edward Cullen, the junkie.

Was she fucking stupid? I don't know where she got off on asking me about my personal life that was long gone. Everyone continued to live their lives while I rotted away in this place.

Her question made my blood boil and without thinking I growled, "No, she has _not_ come." She nodded her head while keeping her calm and collected facial expressions, continuing to care for the stitches that once held my bullet wound together.

Something came over me while she bent over my leg, attending to my wound. My jumpsuit had been off and her brown hair was pulled back into a pony tail. I grabbed a hold of it and led her a few inches north.

Her hair wasn't soft or silky, and her eyes weren't a beautiful chocolate that held hints of honey. Her skin wasn't soft or pure and it certainly didn't glow under the fluorescents. Her voice reminded me of a squeaky rat, and her lips were thin and sticky with gloss.

I tilted my head so that she knew not to call for the guards, but the look in her eyes told me that she wanted what I was doing to continue.

If I pictured her hair cascading softly down her back and over her shoulders…

I pulled the elastic out of her hair. It fell flatly, coming to rest a few inches past her neck.

If I pictured her lips soft, full and rosy…

"Edward," I cut her off, her ridiculous voice wouldn't help.

I ran my thumb roughly over her thin lips, wiping away the sticky gloss.

As she stood from her round doctor's stool, I pictured my wife smiling at me. I allowed her to place her hands in mine, and after noticing her long, flashy red nails, I pushed them away. "No."

I could see in her eyes-- the eyes I pictured as my wife's-- she was confused.

I slowly stood from the table and removed her long white jacket revealing a low cut, V-neck sweater, her cleavage screamed at me and I let out a sigh of disappointment. Her tits were much too big and showy.

There wasn't anyone that would ever compare to my wife.

_It was eleven at night and I'd finished packing all of my bags. I was going home. I was finally getting my shit together. I grabbed what was left of my stash to sell to some shady people before I moved back home._

_I put my bags in the back of my SUV and ran back to the house to grab some of the little shit I still had left all over the place. I ran upstairs as quietly as I could and grabbed my toothbrush and deodorant._

_I walked back out and shut the door quietly, took in a deep breath. This was all going to be behind me soon, real soon._

_I got in my truck and drove over to the place I was meeting James. I had been a half hour early so I headed into the bar, with the intention of grabbing a coke while I waited._

_What I saw sent me into a downward spiral. My eyes found Bella walking towards the back with a blond-haired guy dressed like some sort of business man. Before my coke was even brought to me, I reached into my wallet and placed a five on the bar. I ran out of there without looking back and crawled into my into my SUV. _

_I turned the ignition and allowed the music to blare while my heart beat rapidly, hoping it would slow. Just as I was about to lean my head back I heard a knock on my window. _

_James tilted his head and smiled at me wickedly. I should have known. He probably knew that my wife had been working here. _

_I took my keys out of the ignition and opened the door, but before I could get out I was thrown to the ground with a gun pointed to my head._

"_Give it to me. Whatever you have. Just give it to me and you walk away." he said._

_As I was reaching in my pocket I heard sirens in the distance. They must have made James nervous because before I could even gather my thoughts and fist what was in my pocket, the gun went off…_

"Turn around," I hissed.

Jessica was quick to obey. Her tight skirt made things difficult; it would have to come off and that set me off into a rage. I didn't want to see her ass, her face or her jelly like cleavage.

What I wanted was to see my wife.

I slowly backed away, realizing what I'd been doing. "Sorry," I stilled myself, becoming rigid, "are you finished with my leg?" I asked as I picked up my jumpsuit from the table.

Disappointment and annoyance was written clearly over her face. "Apparently." She answered as she pulled her hair back into its pony tail and put her white coat back on.

"Thank you."

*

It had been about a week since I had tried imagining the doctor as Bella, when a CO came to my cell and told me I had a visitor.

Fucking Emmett. Was his first reaming not good enough? Or maybe my parents decided that they could finally accept things for what they were and visit more.

As I walked into the room full of round tables and plastic chairs, I spotted her. My heart skipped a beat and my body started to tremble.

I pulled the chair out, listening to the nasty scratch as it moved along the cement floor.

As I sat down, she kept her eyes on her hands that she had neatly folded on the table.

"Bella." I whispered in greeting and she looked up.

She looked amazing. Not the broken down, tired Bella she was just a few short weeks ago.

"Edward."

"How are you? How are the kids?" I mumbled.

"I came here for one reason, Edward. I want you to sign the papers. I need you to sign them. I need to be able to move on with my life."

I needed to ask her one question. I knew now probably wasn't the best time or place , but I'd take a shot. It was sort of a now or never.

"Why, Bella? What made you think you had to, or _have_ to do that? Work there and a place like _that_? Why there? Why would you have to work at a place like that?"

Bella looked completely taken back by shock. I know she knew my SUV had been towed from there and that I'd been arrested in the parking lot, but I was fairly certain she had no idea I saw here in there. Dressed like that and walking into the back with a man, a man with disgusting intentions.

She took in a breath and the shock in her face turned into complete composure. The Bella I'd married had totally changed.

She hadn't changed in a bad way, but unfortunately for me, she'd changed from the shy, sensitive, quiet, loving woman to a determined, secure and tough one. She was going to survive this and I had to be grateful for that.

"Someone needs to pay the bills and I've gotta support my kids. It's easy money and it's not as bad as I thought it would be. Enough about it, it's really none of your business. You gave that up months ago." She was shushing me. And I didn't have a leg to stand on; she was right.

The look on her face wasn't sad or mad, it was almost like she just wanted to get it over with. She wanted to go on and continue to heal.

How was I supposed to deny her of that? I had fucked up so much in so many different ways, I'd lost everything. Holding her to me wasn't fair and I'd have to make a decision.

The best thing I could do for everyone involved was release her of this life. Let her go and let her be happy. Even if her happiness would come from _him_. I still wasn't sure what that was all about, it had been years and maybe he was married, hell maybe even had kids.

It wasn't something I would ask her though. It was definitely something I didn't want the answer to, I wouldn't be able to bare it if my gut was right.

"I don't have the papers on me, Bella." I paused for a split second before rushing to ask about out kids. "Will you bring them to me? I really miss them and would like to be able to see them." I tried to swallow but my throat was dry and tacky, like I'd swallowed a pineapple.

"I brought the papers," she answered, "and I will bring them. Not that I think it's okay for them to see you in a place like this, but I know they still need to see their dad. I'm just not sure how to explain it to them, which is why I haven't brought themyet. You've gotta give me some time, Edward. I need time to prepare them."

*

The next few weeks when I wasn't in the kitchen or watching something ridiculous like BET or MTV, I was laying on my cot reading the Bible. I'd read it twice and was now on my third time. The Bible pissed me off.

I'd lost faith in everything and reading the Bible was stupid and pointless. I'd have to drag my ass to the small closet library next time I had Rec.

"Cullen!" a correctional officer shouted from the hall.

I slowly rose off of my cot and stretched my stiff legs. "Yes, sir?"

"Let's go, you need a physical."

I made sure to walk into the infirmary with a clear mind. As soon as the CO closed the door behind me Jessica took her white jacket off, revealing the most obscene and ridiculous clothing I'd ever seen.

My mind raced back to that night and what I saw in the club, but I refused to let it control me. Not now.

Jessica eyed the paper gown on the table while she pretended to skim my file. Was she really going to play this mind game with me? She knew my file in and out and could probably recite it. I visited her everyday after all, just for my meds now though, since my gunshot wound had since healed.

I'd show her. I had nothing else to lose anyway.

I dropped my jumpsuit and underwear and stood facing her, not moving an inch.

I could tell she knew exactly what I had done, and I watched her body come stiff. Had I made the Doctor nervous? Good.

"So Jessica, are you ready for what you've been dying for? What your ass has wanted for weeks? What your pussy has been aching for?" I'd lost everything, including myself, so why the fuck not turn into asshole of the universe.. or prison? Whatever.

She peeked up from the file just enough to take me in and I took that opportunity to jerk on my dick a little to get hard. I knew this woman wasn't going to be able to arouse me. I needed a bit of a head start.

I wasn't sure if I wanted to be aroused though. I just wanted to get rid of the tension and stress that I'd been under and thought this would be a good enough way as any. I certainly wasn't into lifting weights or punching big heavy bags and there wasn't anything else this prison of hell offered to help with that.

This time I wasn't going to try and imagine her as my now, _ex_-wife. She was just the same whore she'd always been and that's all.

With my dick in one hand, I walked over to the desk Jessica was leaning against and stood about a foot away from her. I watched as the papers slipped from her hands and glided down to the floor.

When the last of the papers reached the linoleum, I leaned in, placing my free hand on the desk behind her and whispered into her ear, "Well, Dr. Stanley, aren't you going to make your move?"

I could feel her breath become erratic and I knew she was loving every minute of this, thus proving my earlier judgment of her being an easy whore.

I bit down on the sensitive flesh below her ear, eliciting a small, hushed groan of approval from her. Not sure of where all this was coming from, this dominance, I decided to just go with it. I allowed her hand to replace mine and pushed her down onto her knees. "I want your mouth," I demanded.

As she wrapped her lips around the head of my cock without hesitation, I jerked my hips forward, causing her gag reflux to go off, but she held it back, allowing her throat to constricted around me.

As she continued working me with her mouth, I thought, _what the hell_, "I think I've had a nasty reaction to that medicine I've been getting for my addiction, I think Methadone would be a safer way for me to go." I paused and fisted her hair in my hands.

Sexual persuasion might work with her, "_right_, Dr. Stanley?"

I might as well get what I could while I was stuck in a prison with nothing to go back to when I got out. Why not continue getting high if it was legally?

"Mhm," Jessica hummed in answer.

I pulled her off of me and had her stand, I had to release the tension that had built inside of me, if not sexually, then mentally.

"I want you, God I want you." she said with extreme need in her voice.

"The desk, bend over the desk."

I followed closely behind her and yanked her skirt up and over her hips, leaving her panties on, pulling them over to the side. Her ass was too big and her legs were too stumpy, but I'm sure she was what most men would find irresistible.

I positioned myself, closed my eyes and grunted as I forcefully entered her and let out a sigh of relief. I hadn't came, but I felt the tension releasing from me already.

I thrust into her again and again while I tried to ignore her small moans of pleasure, escaping her quietly enough that the CO's wouldn't hear.

This continued far longer than I wanted it to so I decided my attempt at something completely new to me. I tore her shirt greedily and grabbed onto her shoulders, thrusting harder and harder until I felt the building of my orgasm.

I quickly pulled out and let my seed spill over her ass and watched in disgust as it dripped down her leg.

I felt like shit for fucking some prison doctor, but I began to calm a little as the minutes ticked by. Jessica cleaned herself off, redressed and pulled her white jacket back on to hide her torn shirt.

"About the Methadone. Forget it." I said as I put the paper gown on, not that I really needed it. I couldn't and wouldn't allow myself to fall back into that. I was already taking medicines to help, ones that didn't make me high, but helped me function normally. As normal a prisoner could get anyway.

"You're sure?" she cooed as she listened to my lungs through her stethoscope.

"Yes."

I was sure, because I wouldn't be here for forever and I certainly did have something to go back to. My beautiful children. I would not allow myself to hurt them every again.

*

The escapades with Jessica continued once every few weeks or so, afterwards making me feel better and worse at the same time.

Being in jail sucked, but thinking about it, I deserved it. I'd made such a mess out of my life and of everyone that I'd been close to. They deserved to be rid of me, rid of the monster I turned into.

I'd seen my kids once since I'd been brought in and I didn't expect it to happen very often. My daughter was scared and confused while here and she was too young to understand much of it. She definitely didn't need to understand it, not now and I'd always be sorry that one day, one day she would.

I was ok that Bella wasn't eager to get them here again anytime soon. I called them a few times a week, would chat for a few minutes and say goodnight. She sent me pictures often enough so that I wouldn't totally miss out on them while I was away.

I did get one picture that happened to have what looked like a man's leg in it, like he'd been sitting on the couch when the picture was taken. I could only guess who it belonged to. I tried not to let it bother me too much; Bella needed to find happiness. It's all I ever wanted for her for as long as I could remember.

I would sit in this brick house surrounded by chain link fences and rusted barbed wire until the day came that I would be a free man. I would be the father my kids needed me to be and try to go on with my life, even if I couldn't be with Bella.


End file.
